


ichor

by peachyteabuck



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, F/M, Kidnapping, Oral Sex, Stockholm Syndrome, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-12 12:50:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19132372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachyteabuck/pseuds/peachyteabuck
Summary: desperate for an heir, the reader kidnaps a god whose ship crashed on her planet. luckily for her (and her people), things go exactly as planned.





	ichor

“I come in peace,” is all Thor remembers saying.

His eyes feels heavy and he struggles to open them. Once he does, there isn’t much to see. The room that surrounds him is about ten feet by ten feet, dark, damp, and made of something similar to concrete.  Thor’s vision is fuzzy and his whole-body aches - the kind one gets from fighting for their life for long periods of time without stopping. He’s not hungry or thirsty, though, which is...odd, to say the least. To feel like one has spent the last month running marathons every day but not yearn for food or drink feels foreign, uncomfortable, disconcerting.

Ropes - incredibly intricate ones - keep his arms locked in place behind his back and his legs tied in a butterfly position. He’s not naked (which is also surprising), but whatever fabric that is currently wrapping his body isn’t going to keep his vital organs safe in another brawl. It’s like linin, but much flimsier.

Thor can’t move much, the knots heavily restricting his limbs. At best he can do what one would describe as “wiggle,” but such a juvenile term diminishes the rush in Thor’s blood that makes him fear for his life.

There’s one guard in the corner of the room, the only fixture other than a small torch to Thor’s left. She’s tall and covered in some thick, metal armor. She looks bored, annoyed. _If it makes you feel any better,_ Thor wants to quip, _I don’t want to be here either._

The first time she speaks to him, Thor doesn’t say anything back. His face is promptly slapped, one of his teeth cutting into the inside of his cheek. The copper taste is nothing short of a violent warning: _do what you are told, or you are to face the consequences._

The second time the guard speaks to him, Thor spits the deep red blood-spit mixture onto the floor as her lips form the words.

“Who are you?” The woman asks. She’s not trying to get to know Thor better, it’s more like she’s confirming something. Trying to trap him into revealing his true self.

Thor spits again. “I am Thor Odinson, God of Thunder.”

The woman tsks. She steps in front of the prisoner, who now notices that she’s looking at a piece of parchment in her right hand. “Really? I feel like you’re forgetting something…” Thor doesn’t say anything, confused. The guard raises one eyebrow and looks down at the parchment. As she reads from the parchment, the sword in her left hand becomes pointed at the center of Thor’s chest – its end dangerously close to breaking his skin. He breathes shallowly to avoid further injury. “Says here you’re also the God of Fertility.”

Thor nods once and swallows, giving no verbal response.

The guard sighs, tucks the paper into a fold in her armor, and gently places her sharpened sword underneath Thor’s scruffy chin. Carefully, she lifts his head until his eyes meet her own. “Listen, captive. I’m only going to say this once,” the cold metal presses into Thor’s skin. It doesn’t cut him, but it’s close. “Either answer me with the proper vocal response, or I’ll cut your limbs off.” She pulls the weapon back but keeps it trained on the center of his heaving chest. “Understand?”

Thor swallows, trying to suppress the fear and adrenaline that courses through his veins. “Yes.”

The guard gives him a small smile and Thor feels...good. The praise is not unwelcome, even if it is coming from someone who kidnaped him. “Excellent,” she says. The looks down at the paper again. “So, are you - or are you not - the God of Fertility?”

“Yes,” Thor confirms. ” Besides being the God of Thunder, I am also the God of Fertility.”

The guard sighs, mumbles a heavily accented _“fuckin’ finally”_ under her breath, and then speaks into a comms system that wraps around her ear before attaching itself to the back of the collar on her armor. She walks a little bit away and speaks lowly into it - like she doesn’t want her captive to hear. “Yeah,” She whispers. “We got him. Have the others bring him down as soon as the queen is awake.”  She begins to step away, and Thor’s panic rises...though he’s unsure of why. Is he scared to be left alone? Or maybe it’s simply the anticipation of meeting the woman whom has been labelled _queen_. Maybe it’s the fact that he still doesn’t know why he’s here, why he was kidnapped, drugged, and then held in some prison cell while being bound. The fear that comes with not knowing is worse than the anxiety that preludes an anticipated action.

As the footsteps of the first guard begin to fade, another’s come into earshot.

This one is a doctor, or at least it looks like it. She doesn’t speak, doesn’t try to threaten Thor into submission. (She doesn’t really need to, though. Her travel medical kit is full of sharp scissors and knives and other surgical devices precisely placed, each one labeled in a language Thor doesn’t recognize next to or under a symbol he vaguely remembers.) The doctor pokes and prods at him, making sure that the cut in his mouth is healing properly, the ropes aren’t rubbing too hard into his skin, checks on the bruises that litter his body. Every few minutes, she mumbles something about him being okay.

Thor doesn’t really think much of it, until she starts questioning him about his body count.

“When is the last time you engaged in sexual activity?” She asks, clicking a ballpoint pen with the same logo and foreign slogan as the rest of the tools before testing it on the first page of a small notebook.

Thor’s too surprised and concerned to answer right away. “Uh…” he chokes a little on his words. “Maybe...six months ago…”

The doctor scribbles something onto the paper. Thor now also feels embarrassed.

“And did you orgasm, including the release of sperm?” Her tone is too bland, too bored for this situation. It’s like she’s done this too many times and isn’t fazed at all by the subject matter of their conversation. The doctor looks at Thor for the first time when she notices his muscles tensing for more than a few seconds. From there, her tone shifts from apathetic to very, very annoyed. “Listen. I have a job to do. I enjoy this less than you do. The faster we finish, the faster I can get out of here and leave you alone.”

The speech is much less motivating that the doctor thinks it is, but Thor answers nonetheless. “Yes, I did…. that happened.”

The doctor nods once. “Have you orgasmed since you last engaged in sexual activity with a partner or partners?”

“Yes,” Thor says.

“When was the last time that happened?”

“About...” he thinks back to his isolated ship, the absence of a partner nearly driving him to insanity. “A week and a half ago.”

The doctor scribbles one last thing down before packing up her stuff and making her return to the outside world. A sliver of light comes from the hallway that Thor didn’t notice before. Fire, the heat feels like fire. _Why are the hallways lit with **fire** , _he curses.

The doctor leaves the door ajar before shouting something in a language he hasn’t heard in hundreds of years. Just the thought of these people being who he thinks they are sends cripping shivers down his spine. His heart rate picks up, his eyes flitting all over the room for the thousandth time in a desperate attempt to find an exit. _Escape, I need to escape_. Maybe if he breathes hard enough one will appear

As the doctor continues to bark orders into the hallway in a voice that is much larger than she is, Thor almost screams out in the anticipation of whatever torture he’s about to endure. “Bring him in!” Quickly, the sound of arm begins to ricochet from the hallway into Thor’s cell. “He’s ready for her.”

When she notices her captive writhing on the ground to get out of his binds, she quickly walks back in. Thor stops for a moment when something metallic catches his eye, and she then notices her holding a needle. A deep blue seal, the same as on her coat and case, stands out against the white liquid.

If Thor wasn’t scared before, he _definitely_ is now. The doctor steps closer, still, but now her stance is different. She sees that Thor is terrified and adjusts her speed accordingly. Now she approaches him as if he, a god, was a wounded animal. Not even a large one, like a bear or wolf, but as if he was a terrified cat with three broken legs stuck in the rain.

Still, as soon as she’s within arm’s reach, Thor kicks at her to throw her off balance. No such luck, though, considering her reflexes are too fast and his legs are confined into an awkward position.

No such luck. The moment he knows his attempt was a complete failure, three guards run from behind the doctor to keep him down on the cold ground. Pebbles and dirt dig into the skin on his face as he’s pressed down, and as he feels a long needle slide into his shoulder he notices a dirty drain at the far end he’d never seen before.

_Fuck_ , he thinks as the world around him disintegrates into darkness. _I’m going to die here._

Thor wakes up with a searing pain in his check and a soreness in his knees he can’t quite describe. He looks around, but the room he’s in brings up more questions than answers. He’s seen the Catholic churches of Earth with their high ceilings, gold furnishings, beautiful oil paintings. This room reminds him of those, though the comparison seems weaker by the minute. This room doesn’t have any wooden pews, and the only real object is a large throne. Broken swords with jagged edges encircle the top like a Halo made of barbed wire. In all, it looks like a particularly wicked shrine.

His arms are still tied behind his back like before, with what he guesses is a taunt leash attached to one of the criss-crosses in Thor’s binds. His legs are unbound, though. Though he knows the freedom is an illusion, it still comforts the king as he swallows in fear.

It’s then that Thor realizes the soreness in his knees is because he’s kneeling on some soft fabric. Black velvet, he notices.

Black velvet also lines the walls and just around the throne.  The woman occupying said throne is plump, and she’s obviously not happy. Her long nails click against the metal of the throne, and her hair is messy below her silver crown. It looks as if she was just been woken up, broken out of happy unconsciousness by some frivolous task.  

When her eyes fall on Thor, though, she stops _taptaptaping_ her nails on the hard metal.

“Is this the captive you found?” As she speaks, she visibly perks up like a child receiving an unexpected gift. “Is this the one the maids were talking about?”

The doctor from earlier appears from behind Thor. She’s changed now, looks less like a woman preparing to care for a wounded soldier and more like one preparing to oversee something of much importance. She’s carrying papers, ones he remembers from earlier in the cell, attached to a light brown clipboard. “Yes, your majesty,” she fidgets in place under the gaze of her ruler. “This is the one whose ship crashed in the forest fifty yards from the hunting cabin of the general who is on vacation.”

“Was she the one who called it in?”

The guard swallows and nods again. She wipes her palms on the side of her pristine white coat before speaking. “Yes. Officers were able to respond and seize the refugee without incident.”

The monarch raises one eyebrow and looks down at Thor, whose muscles tense every few seconds to see if the bonds had become looser or weaker since the last time he tried to escape. “Really? This one seems like a little fighter…”

The guard tightens the lax in the leash. She doesn’t speak, just smirks as Thor’s pulled backwards. The royal laughs, and steps to him from her throne. She reaches down, tracing the long, thin cut along his left cheek – one Thor hadn’t noticed until then. He snaps at her, trying to bite at the finger that dares touch him.

Her reflexes are much faster than his, though, and she’s able to pull away before the god’s teeth can do any damage. “Ooh,” she coos. “Feisty.” Her eyes follow him up and down more before she returns to her throne. “I like him. Bring him to my chamber and place him in my bedroom. I’ll be there soon.”

Thor speaks for the first time since the first time he talked to that doctor. “Wait!” The guards ignore him, pressing him down into the floor again, probably to be re-injected with the same serum as before. “Wait, why, is she-” Everyone ignores him, simply holding him down as the world goes black again. “Why am I…”

Before the last shred of imagery fades into darkness, Thor sees your long gown fly past him. “This one is strong,” he hears you murmur to one of the guards not holding him to the floor. “He’s perfect.”

Thor wakes up again, limbs free and muscles aching, in what he guesses is your bedroom. He’s curled up on the ground, the only thing in his line of sight the underside of a large bed and a pair of shoes neatly placed next to each other.

He has very little time to consider this new space before he’s being dragged into a sitting position by his hair, eyes meeting yours as you sit on the perfectly made bed.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” you say, putting the book in your hands on your bedside table. It’s a rich red with pure white pages, the kind Thor recognizes from Earth Bibles. Judging by the erratic font, though, he thinks it may be a diary. You wave your hand towards the woman holding Thor’s hair, and she lets his golden locks go with a huff.

“I understand, your majesty,” she says before making a swift exit out of the room.

Then, you and Thor are alone. The fact is terrifying, blood curdling. _Alone._

“I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here,” you tell him.

Thor nods once. “Wouldn’t anyone?”

You ignore his bratty comment in favor of hearing your own voice.

“My planet is small, isolated from many other countries. In a way it’s a blessing, we are able to preserve the integrity and peace of our planet without having to be dragged into the affairs of others. Small population means large enemies overlook us,” you sigh and lean back on the bed. “But those niceties come at a cost. While procreation is easy, with such a small amount of people it can quickly become hard to prevent inbreeding. Protecting my population from preventable diseases is a large part of governing.”

Thor remains speechless for a long while, unsure of what to say. “So, I’m here to breed a portion of the woman who live here?”

You let go of a small laugh. _Oh, foolish one_ , you think. “Originally, yes. At first your rescue was just to make sure that you weren’t planning to overthrow our government,” she notices Thor’s strange look and answers the unspoken question. “It’s surprisingly common, people hear about a small planet made up entirely of women and they think we’re easy to takeover.” She rolls her eyes at the memories of the small, easily crushed rebellions that had sparked themselves throughout her kingdom. “But when your medical exam came back, I knew I couldn’t resist you and your genes,” The smile that spreads across her face is almost childlike in wonder. “I originally was going to give you to some of my highest guards, I thought they deserved the honor, you see…But once I saw you I…” you sigh dazily. “I couldn’t resist.”

Thor give her a further look of confusion, as if he hadn’t answered her simple question.

“No,” you tell him frankly. “You’re here to breed me.” Thor doesn’t have a chance to respond as the you continue to speak. “While preserving the genetic diversity on my planet is necessary, so is the production of an heir.” The smile that spreads across your face is sinister and cunning, a cat who knows her prey will not, cannot escape her grasp. “And who better to do that than the god of fertility himself?”

Thor still remains silent, unable to speak. He figures waving his right to be heard is more likely to not get him killed. Satisfied with leaving the one-sided conversation there, you don’t push the issue. Tired from the day’s events and your beauty sleep cut short, you decided to go to bed. You get ready silently, stripping off your regal attire and slipping on a comfortable shift. All the while, Thor remains quiet.

But, just as you turn the light off, you hear him start to protest.

You sigh, faux-annoyed. In truth, you’d kill to hear him beg. “Yes, captive?”

Thor whimpers for a moment, unsure of what to say. “I just...uh...I...I um…”

You roll your eyes. “Spit it out, I’m tired.”

Thor visibly swallows, uncomfortable. “It’s just that I haven’t fucked in…” he avoids eye contact as he speaks. “I have not had sex in a very long time and I miss it.”

You smirk, crawling forward. “And what do you want me to do about that?”

He inhales deeply, fidgets with his chains before he speaks again. “I would be happy to aid you in the production of your heir.”

A wide smile spreads across your face, your eyes gleaming. “Excellent, the ritual will begin tomorrow.”

Thor’s nervousness is replaced by confusion. “Ritual?”

You exhale happily, chest fluttering with excitement. “Yes, the ritual!” You squeal. “Every time a monarch is bred it requires a ritual so that the Gods protect the baby from harm.”

“What does the ritual entail?” he asks, tone a blend of genuine curiosity and possible fear.

“Guess you’ll have to find out,” you murmur, smirking.

Thor snorts, having found some confidence “You’re very bad at being coy, you know.”

You shrug, moving to turn off the light next to your bed. “But you’re the one bound and on my floor, so I feel it doesn’t matter.”

As your breath evens out and your body relaxes, Thor’s stay wide open. There’s not much he can do, considering he’s currently tied up and also being held captive in a room he doesn’t know how he got to in a castle he doesn’t know the layout of. Still, he can’t seem to fall asleep, and soon the pink of dawn begins to illuminate the room. About an hour from the first kiss of sun a maid comes in to wake you, bringing a pot of fruity tea and a large plate of eggs, sweet cakes, and streamed vegetables.

The maid exits as you begin to eat, giving you a single nod and stepping out of the room with even, staccato footsteps.

Thor is allowed to eat some of the small cakes, but only if he eats them from your hand. He doesn’t protest, doesn’t mind what might be considered as some as humiliation. He’s just hungry and will take whatever it is you’ll give him whether that be with a knife and fork or from your hands.

The meal is silent, only sounds in the large bedroom chewing and the scrape of silverware on the delicate plate.

The same maid from before takes the plate away, wordlessly clearing what’s practically a buffet compared to the slop he had eaten on his ship. As he licks the last bit of sugary frosting from his fingertips, he realizes then that he will do anything to please the woman in front of him.

 It’s soon after he’s whisked away into an adjacent room, stripped, and cleaned off by women with soft hands. As the last bit of sweat and dirt from his jail cell is cleaned away, a woman much other than the ones whose fingers dance over his sun-kissed skin enters the small circular space.

Her voice is husky, deep as her voice enters the air. She speaks through a hood connected to a cloak, the thick, dark fabric covering her face.

“The ceremony is meant to protect the child of any royal, to keep them from harm and to ensure a safe pregnancy and delivery. Do you under the purpose?”

Thor nods. “I do.”

She continues. “In order to complete the ceremony, I simply have to pray over you,” a small pause. “Now kneel.”

Thor does as he is told, patiently staring at the floor as the old woman murmurs something in the same language that the guards from the cell where he was kept yelled in.

The next few moments are ones that pass by at the speed of light. He’s whisked away to a room in a part of your grand palace he does not recognize, where he’s shoved onto a bed covered in the same black fabric as what decorated the throne room.

There, in the middle in the sea of darkness, lays you. Naked save for a swath of the sheets which you had pulled to shield your skin from the bite of cold air that occasionally leeched through the walls.

There are words exchanged as the door is locked behind Thor, as he walks over to the bed, as he crawls over the edge to you. Still silent, he traces his rough fingertips over the smooth skin of your ankle, up your calf, to your knee; the fabric cuts him off, then, denies him access to your skin.

“How I have missed the feeling of a lover’s flesh,” he coos. “Your body is so warm compared to that freezing cell.”

Thor kisses up your legs, then, moving the thick fabric away from your plush thighs with his hands as his lips soon follow. His scruffy chin and cheeks feel delicious against your hot skin, the sweet sensations sending sparks - metaphorical ones, for now - through your body. Thor bites into the thick stretch marks that have found their home there from years of birthing children not worthy to inherit the crown and battles and whatever else life had caused your skin lasting trauma.

“Such a beautiful pair of thighs,” he mumbles into the crook of your left knee. “Truly a delicacy.”

Wet, open-mouthed kisses continue to train to your aching cunt, but never meet your desperate clit. No, Thor is better than that, more experienced than the others you’ve made love to. The touches are patient, slow, something to be revered.

“Oh, Thor,” you moan as his tongue dips inside of you. The sounds of him suckling at your slick fill the empty room, bouncing off the thick walls and back into your ears. “Oh, Gods, don’t stop!” You scream out. You can feel Thor’s devilish grin as he continues, and you’re almost sad that he doesn’t make some sort of sarcastic retort (the only thing better than an obedient boy is a bratty one), but the feeling of his lips around your nub fills you with too much pleasure to make you not want him to stop for anything, whether that be air or a light quip.

As he continues his ministrations, the familiar tightening and pressure builds inside your belly in a slowly, consistently. “Oh, fuck, baby,” you scream, gripping his golden hair between your trembling fingers. They feel like tourniquets around your appendages; as pain shoots through his scalp and down his spinal cord, you can feel Thor moan into your desperate pussy.

It only takes a few more licks for you to finally orgasm, pleasure filling your every vein and artery. Is this what the prophets describe as an “out of body experience”? Is this what they feel as they convulse on your palace floor, consumed with the pleasure of giving everything you have in your mind, body, and soul?

 If so, you never want to be worshipped again. Let some other foolish noble take your place on that damned uncomfortable throne. You want to feel like this, to worship Thor’s tongue and cock, for the rest of time.

As the shocks subside and a sweet, warm euphoria spreads throughout your body, Thor hikes one of your legs over his shoulder and wraps the other around your waist.

“Oh, my queen,” he moans. “It’s been too long. How I have missed this, as well.”  
Thor moans as you wrap a hand around him, moving you spit-slicked palm up and down his hardened cock.

“I hope I can meet such desperate expectations,” you giggle as you move to guide him into you, stretching your tight cunt. For a moment you’re annoyed with his slow, patient pace. But soon he begins to fulfill your wanton wishes.

Thor fucks into you with desperation, your legs hitched over his shoulders. “God, fuck!” you cry out when one of his muscled arms snakes between your bodies and rubs at your aching clit. “Fuck, don’t stop!”

“I’d rather perish than let you go,” he pants. “Promise of Valhalla couldn’t rip me away from you, my dear.”

As you come again, your nails drag themselves down Thor’s back, angry red lines emerging under your fingertips. He moans loudly at the pain, a rumbling that comes deep in chest that only gets louder as you clench around him. “My queen, I’m going, I’m going to-”

“Cum in me!” You scream. “Breed me, Thor Odinson!” you scream as he releases inside of you. You orgasm with him, and Thor groans at the feeling of you clenching around him.

“Oh Gods,” he moans deep in his chest. His eyes roll to the back of his head and his jaw going slack. Soon all that fills the room is the sound of heavy breathing, and the occasional small moan as the aftershocks of pleasure roll through each of your muscles.

You hiss as Thor pulls out, but as you expect him to collapse next to you – he defies all expectations by lowering his face to your core and pushing his cum back into your cunt with his long, rough fingers.

And for a moment, just a moment, you think you may be in love.  

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> 2/2 for my june weekly fic goal!! we gettin this BREAD


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